


The Other Side

by BriannaNicole



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Near Death Experiences, Rickyl Writers' Group, Some Fluff, Some Plot, survial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:31:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14552940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriannaNicole/pseuds/BriannaNicole
Summary: Rick and Daryl are forced to make some hard decisions while running for their lives. That old saying is true: It really does worse before it gets better.But how bad can it be??





	The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome all!!
> 
> I actually got this idea from reading a Xena:The Warrior Princess fanfic. If you're a fan as well, check out merwolf's stories, you wont be dissapointed! I typed this out furiously like someone processed and Im excited to hear from you guys on how you like it! 
> 
> Please give me shout! This is unbeat'd but well cared for. Enjoy!

"Fuck, Rick! Go!" 

There is no mistaking the urgency in the hunter's voice and it sends Rick's body into overdrive, his legs carrying him as fast as possible over each rock and broken twig. He can't help but look back to make sure Daryl is still with him. Of course, he is, as always, his face set in a mixture of fear and determination. Looking back past Daryl, he can see the group of people still behind them. They had long ago run out of bullets to fire, but they refused to give up whatever reward killing Rick and Daryl would bring. They aren’t Saviors, perhaps just people still high on living in a "free world". In any case, the need to move forward is imperative.

Looking back costs Rick his footing over some loose gravel, sending him sprawling forward. His eyes close as he braces himself for the impact to the ground. It doesn't happen. Daryl yanks the back of Rick's shirt and shoves him forward. Rick manages to collect himself and plows onward, desperately dodging low-hanging branches as he skirts gracelessly around bushes. He wants to stop and fight but there are too many of them, stopping now would result in their deaths for sure.

He can still hear the group's shouting and cursing, they sound like a pack of wolves hellbent on supper and he can't think straight with all the noise and distraction. Even Daryl, the ever quiet hunter, is noisily shoving his way through the bush steadily urging Rick faster. 

"I'm goin' fast as I can!"

"Don' matter, keep goin'!" 

The leader throws more effort, if possible, into his stride. His legs were burning long ago, the breath in his chest coming heavy and strained now. He wipes sweat from his eyes and really, fuck this being hunted shit. He's tired of it. Daryl's labored breathing matches his breath for breath and he knows they can't do this forever. But where do they go?

A tap on his shoulder from behind almost startles him, "Right, Rick. Go. Go!"

Rick obeys taking the next right he sees, skidding on leaves as his legs struggle to keep up with his demand. His shirt catches on an outstretched branch, tearing his shirt and into his skin but he doesn't notice the pain. 

However, he does notice the horde of walkers just standing there, like they've been waiting for food delivery. He skids to a halt, almost falling over as Daryl runs into his back. The horde notices, turning as if pulled on one connected string, stumbling towards them. 

One look between the two men and their group of harassers are forgotten. They'll have to choose between jumping into the fray just to kill two lone men facing off against at least 50 walkers or move on about their way. Rick and Daryl pull their knives from their belts and begin stabbing and slashing at anything in reach. They won't be able to do this forever either, but it'll have to do until there's room to evade them. For now, the woods are full of them and there's nowhere to turn. One glance and the group of men are gone, maybe they aren't so stupid after all. 

The fight is nasty, a blur of silver blades and sunken flesh. By the time Rick notices a way out they're all but tripping over fallen walkers. He tugs on Daryl's hand, it's slick with blackish blood.

"Daryl! Bridge ahead. C'mon!" 

They elbow their way through the rest of the walkers, struggling to push through their grabbing, greedy hands and bolt for the bridge. Somehow the remaining walkers are right on their heels, urging them across. The bridge is rickety, hastily made before the end of the world and this world has treated it no better. They don't have time to nitpick and step out on the boards, holding on to the thin ropes. It sways with each hesitant step they take. Looking down grants them an eyeful of nothing but space. It would be a fatal drop to the river below if they fall. 

Damnit. 

"Daryl.." Rick starts, looking back, knowing uncertainty is shining in his eyes. 

"I'm here, just keep it steady. We'll be fine, just watch your footin'" 

Rick swallows thickly and turns back, trying to force himself not to look down again. He's never considered himself afraid of heights but this is on another level. He feels like he's suspended in air, his only foundation being a couple rotten boards and rough rope. And really that's all it is and he swallows again, steeling himself for the long trip ahead. 

"Ok, this may have been a bad idea, Daryl."

Daryl's voice is a tad shaky when he replies, "Best we got. Keep goin', darlin'" 

Rick nods but before he can take another step he hears the deafening groans of walkers. The bridge sways haphazardly as the horde makes its way on to the bridge as well. Both men fight for balance, trying hard not to be thrown over the rope. 

"Fuck!" Daryl exclaims. "Rick!"

"Goin'. Goin'" Rick answers, resuming his steps, trying to be mindful of the state of the boards under his feet. 

The walkers, with their lack of mind, don't have the ability to hold onto anything and many of them start falling over the side. That's all well and good, Rick thinks, only if they don't go over the side with them. 

Then he hears a board snap behind him and he's whipping around the best he can to see Daryl's foot going through. "Daryl!" He's turning, throwing his hand out to stop the hunter's fall but he regains his footing. "I'm fine.", he pants, "Keep goin'"

Rick turns back, wishing to be off this damn death trap. He curses himself for suggesting this in the first damn place. He tries to concentrate as the bridge surges to the side again so he white knuckles the rope and makes himself continue forward. He looks up and there are walkers coming towards him and Rick _really_ wishes he hadn't gotten out of bed this morning. 

"Shit. You gotta be kiddin!" He hears Daryl curse. Rick's eyes are glued to the walkers stumbling carelessly towards him, his mind working on overtime to find a way out. Yet, again, there is none, and the leader feels a sinking feeling in his gut combined with nausea that puts a shake in his knees. 

Rick closes his eyes and sucks in the best breath he can within his restricted chest and stops, turning around to face Daryl. The hunter's eyes mirror his and Rick will be damned if this how they go out. 

"Alright. Only choice we got is to fight. Get as many to fall over as we can before we make it across. You with me?"

"Yea.", is all that Daryl says before he's reaching over his shoulder for his crossbow. He bends over to load an arrow in, it takes his fumbling hands longer than normal to load it and but once he does, he fires, hitting a walker right between the eyes. It flips over the side, jostling the men in its wake. Rick uses a hand to steady himself as he checks his pitiful supply of bullets. He finds only two in the chamber. He feels for any in his back pocket and only finds one. 

There is no time to mention what would happen should they fall over or the bridge finally fails. They'll die, of course. But, at least, they'll be together. 

Rick and Daryl share a lingering kiss and a nod of possible goodbye before pressing their backs together, facing their individual group of walkers. Impulsively, Rick reaches back to curl his hand tightly in Daryl's belt. Daryl fires another bolt and looks back at Rick, "Fuck ya doin'?" 

"Aint letting you go.", is all that Rick says. Daryl tugs at Rick's hand, huffing when his lover won't let go. 

"Rick, lemme loose! If I fall-"

"If you fall then I'm going with you," Rick shouts, his eyes lit with a fierce determination even Daryl couldn't agrue. 

He nods, feeling a loving warmth in his chest as he bends to ready his weapon for another arrow. He hears Rick shoot, the noise shattering his hearing from such close quarters. From then on, there is no more time for talking.

The swaying of the bridge worsens impossibly as the walkers close in on them. Both men have exhausted their ammo and are down to their knives again. They put away their weapons and get out their knives, settling into the hard work of slashing and punching at the enemy. Amazingly, Rick never does lose his grip on Daryl's belt, using the rest of his body to stab, push and, kick out at the walkers. A distorted growl sounds in Rick's throat as another walker falls, dead for good, over the rope. Daryl is holding his own, finding reassurance that Rick is still with him from the firm grasp still clutched on his belt. 

It's exhausting and fucking terrifying as hell but eventually, the walkers diminish down to short supply. It barely takes more than a push for them to fall over the rope and Rick is turning to check the state of his lover. Relieved in finding him unharmed for now, he lets go and hooks his fingers in the front of Daryl's belt loops, tugging him along. 

The excitement doesn't seem to be quite over, though. They aren't but two feet from solid ground when the bridge decides its had enough. The ropes snap. 

Both men jump, screaming as their arms flail out for anything to grab onto. Daryl gets his footing first, having grabbed onto a branch sticking out from the side of the cliff. He looks beside him, expecting Rick to be there. 

He isn't. 

 

" _Rick!_ " Daryl screams, twisting himself around. 

"Here!" Rick calls. Daryl lets out a cry of relief, his body sagging against the side of the cliff. The branch is harsh and rough against his palm but he'll be damned if he lets go now. Not when he knows his lover is alive, maybe not well, but fucking alive. 

"You alright?" Daryl calls out, his voice rough. 

"Fine, you?" Rick answers, his voice sounding just as pained. He ended up several feet down but looks to be holding up well enough. 

"I'm good, now. Let's get the fuck from down here. C'mon." 

"Right behind ya." 

 

Both men climb slowly, carefully navigating the difficult terrain of the cliff side. Daryl reaches the top first and waits for Rick to arrive beside him. Together, they pull themselves over and roll gratefully across the dirt. 

Rick lets out an almost delirious chuckle, the sound breathy but so full of life it brings tears to Daryl's eyes. They rise from the ground together and are quickly in each other's arms. They squeeze needed breath from each other simultaneously checking the other for bites. Thankfully, they find none. 

Then their lips are crashing together, putting all of the adrenaline they still feel into it. It's pure fire, this kiss, this gift of still being alive and safe for the moment. Hands clutch at clothes, pulling either man in closer. Daryl walks Rick back into a tree without breaking their precious kiss, his large hands framing the leader's face almost painfully. Rick's legs shake again, this time for a much better reason then Daryl is pulling away. His thin lips are rosy from the prolonged contact, spit covered and glistening in the sunlight. Rick is sure his are the same, even down to his flushed cheeks. 

He's reaching for Daryl again, smashing their foreheads together, holding them there like glue in the same tight space and Rick wants to cry. He wants to shout out to the world that they survived. That they can do anything, _anything_ together.


End file.
